


under the big top

by writingramblr



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), dumbo [2019]
Genre: Alternate Universe - Circus, Amnesia, Anal Sex, Angst, Canon Compliant, Credence Barebone Heals, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Happy Ending, Lazy af, M/M, Magic Induced Amnesia, No spoilers just fix its, Non-Graphic Violence, Not fucking crimes of grindefuck compliant, Off Screen Violence, Oh im pissed alright, Oral Sex, Original Percival Graves Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Post-Movie 1: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, Rimming, Thank you fucking very much jkr now get fucked, Whump, also, but also canon, dumbo [2019] mashup with fantastic beasts and where to find them 2, mild PTSD, water for elephants [elements not plot lines]
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-05-22 00:04:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14925570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/writingramblr
Summary: Percival Graves, missing parts of his recent past, and himself, hops a train that houses a circus containing one thing from his life he couldn't forget if he tried.Credence is an orphan who belongs to the circus, the open road, and has his home at center stage. Everything comes crashing down when someone he shouldn't know joins the troupe.Has the little girl who calls herself his sister been telling the truth all along?Why are things in the circus so strange?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i said i wasn't gonna try posting until november. dumbo's trailer dropped at 4am and made a liar out of me.  
> hope you guys like this. the summary makes it sound way better than it really is.  
> pls check out the graphic and rebloggable post here:

It’s dark inside the stables, quiet and comforting, almost like out of a dream. 

But as Credence drags his fingertips gently through the silky mane of his favorite horse, he knows it’s real. The smell is sharp. 

The entire circus has that bitter reek of cigarettes, cheap moonshine, and the presence of animals and humans in confined quarters, when not under the magnificent umbrella of the main tent. 

The train rattles and thumps underneath his feet, now almost second nature, he has his train legs, much like sea legs, it means one’s balance must be adaptive to sudden jerky vibrations, as well as turns that happen blindly. 

Credence fell down every five steps when he first joined the circus, and now it’s like walking down any street. There’s a louder thud, and then a screech, and the horses all rustle, despite his shushing, and reassuring pats. 

“I’ll go see what’s going on, not to worry. Someone may have just rolled out of their bed.”

He makes his way out of the stable car, and slips back through the door to his usual sleeping compartment, and finds someone curled up inside his bunk. 

In the moonlight breaking through the slats he catches a glimpse of silvery blonde hair. 

He smiles a touch sadly to himself. 

It’s the little girl who calls herself his sister. She’s usually not far behind him. His little shadow. 

Credence lifts his blanket further over top of her square shoulders, and then settles on the remaining two thirds of the bed, giving her space. It doesn’t matter though, in the morning, he’ll wake up, and she’ll be tucked into his side, one arm thrown over his stomach, clinging to him. 

She insists he’s her brother, and they have to look out for each other.

Credence has no family, besides the circus in general, so he doesn’t mind. He’s not about to break her heart and tell her she’s making up stories. Sometimes he likes stories, especially when they end happily.

 

* * *

 

 

He’s lucky, he knows. Hopping a moving train when it’s going fast enough to rob one of a limb if a mistake is made could be called foolish, reckless, but Percy’s always been like that. 

He’s already missing a limb too, so there’s less worry. 

There is plenty of anger over it, but he’s adapted to change well enough. At least his wand arm is still in good shape, and he doesn’t even need a wand to perform his magic. Not really.

Percy remembers distinctly being told by many an Auror instructor,  _ ‘You’ll get yourself killed saving someone else’s back, be a little more selfish, Graves.’  _

Percy always shot back that being selfless was how he’d been taught to behave growing up. 

Being one of the twelve founding families had it’s few advantages. 

One of them meant getting away with shit like that. Percy saves  _ lives _ plural, not just his own. Never just his.

It’s why he’d signed up for the nomaj war in secret, fought and bled at Theseus’s side, and instead of being arrested or killed by MACUSA for so blatantly flouting the statute of secrecy, he’d been hired on as the President’s right hand man. Director of Magical Security. To this day he wonders if he was offered that job purely to replace whomever was fired for not catching him until he’d already shipped off with nomajs for war.

The power and privilege of his position has saved his life many times.

Now, he’s doing what he can to keep surviving. That means leaving New York, leaving the mystery of his capture and escape to the wind, and trying to figure everything out. 

There’s a seven day gap inside his mind, pain that makes muscles ache, as well as his mangled arm, and a twisting in his gut when he thinks about the boy with sad eyes, and cut palms. Credence.

Is he alright? Is he alive? Did Grindelwald get to him… through Percy? All he knows is that if Credence has been harmed, there’s not going to be so much as a pebble for that man to hide under before Percy finds a way to end him.

 

Percy wakes up from an exhausted stupor from someone kicking at the bottom of his shoes. 

He’s being frowned down upon, and Percy’s little remaining charm without the use of magic barely helps him. “Who are you and how did you get here?” 

He’s not some nomaj runaway, or a drifter, so he makes himself useful. Percy weaves a tale about how he’s always wanted to join a circus, to work with creatures and help magic happen for the audiences. 

As it turns out, they’re in need of another beast wrangler, so he doesn’t get thrown off the train, this time.

“Long as you can get what needs to be done without any help.” He’s told, with a look over at his left side.

When they reach the next stop, the next town, Percy finally gets to meet the rest of the crew, including the performers and various so called freaks. Everything and everyone else falls away, even the very smiley blonde child who’s right beside the one person Percy would know, in any place, no matter what.

Credence.

_ Credence. _

Credence is  _ here _ . 

Nothing else matters, except when Percy’s jaw goes slack and he rushes over, the desperate greeting on the tip of his tongue, he sees no hint of recognition in the boy’s eyes. And just like that, he deflates.

He puts on his best Director face. The little girl chirps hello, and Credence gives Percy a polite smile.

It’s like being punched in the gut. Boxed round the ears with a hex he has no chance to block.

Modesty takes his one hand, shakes it rather fiercely and then beams at him when he returns the gesture, a confident squeeze to hide the thundering pound of his heart in his ears. 

“You’ll be helping me with the horses and the elephants, right?” She looks to Credence for confirmation. 

“Oh are you in the livestock department?” The boy asks, tone light, but not terribly interested.

Percy thinks there’s a lump forming in his throat from hunger, but that’s wishful thinking. 

It’s a different kind of grief, to be dead in someone’s mind, than to have never existed at all. 

“Yes. that’s me. What do you do?”

At last, a reaction. 

Credence’s smile grows, and his expression softens. “I’m the rider. The star of the show.”

_ The _ rider. As in the only one. There are five trapeze swingers, who switch on and off different days, but only one person who has the job of walking on elephant backs, or standing atop horses. 

He doesn’t ask  _ ‘what happens if you get hurt?’ _ because it’s Credence. He’s alive. He’s a survivor.

Credence is stronger than even Percy knows, and he’s got no idea who he is. 

Modesty remains chipper throughout the rest of the day, as the circus gets set up and sends out a few people to spread the word, using flyers and simple word of mouth. 

As if the sight of the massive tent isn’t enough to catch the town’s attention. 

When Percy is caught up on his work, he finds himself gravitating towards Credence, who’s practicing his act, complete with the elephants who look as if they’re in a fuzzy haze.  _ Magic _ , he realizes. 

Something about them feels off, because it  _ is _ . Whoever is running this circus isn’t a nomaj at all.

Yet instead of bothering to confront them, Percy is hypnotized easily by Credence doing simple moves, and that’s when he realizes this is rather hopeless. Percy doesn’t know what powerful magic has erased the meetings they shared, the conversations that never wanted to be ended, at least on his end. 

Credence has forgotten him and it hurts worse than he thought dying would. 

Percy decides to be stupidly noble, as always, and remains silent. What’s the point in biting the hand that’s currently housing and feeding him, to serve a government that didn’t even notice he was missing?

No, he chooses the quiet life, and observation of what he cannot have in the form of Credence, being happy without the knowledge of his existence. 

Modesty engages him in conversation, more often than not, so it’s not as lonely as he would like to pretend to be, surrounded by complete strangers. But it could be better. Percy resigns himself to this.

To a hell of his own making, in a way. 

It’s not all bad, of course. He has help in the form of Modesty, when she’s not following Credence around, she accompanies him, passes him buckets of oats and water in turn for the horses. 

When it comes to the elephants, he feels a touch off around them because of whatever charm is being used on their entire paddock, but she’s very comfortable. 

She walks right up to the newest baby, and rubs his ears, before greeting him by name. Percy doesn’t understand exactly where the name came from. “Dumbo, eh?”

“Yeah! It’s funny right? Because his ears are funny. He’s adorable. I think he’ll be bigger than his mom.”

Percy glances to the next enclosure. ‘Dumbo’s mother is around four tons. She’s a healthy animal, and if he gets that large, he may need his own routine in the show. “Credence will train him, as he grows.” Modesty says confidently. 

Percy gives her a smile. “I’ll believe it when I see it.” 

“He’s really good. The animals love him. They listen. The horses especially. I’ve  _ seen _ it.” Modesty insists. Percy isn’t sure if she’s mocking him or simply sticking up for Credence. Perhaps he really does have a gift with creatures. He wouldn’t be surprised, considering the boy’s kind and delicate appearance.

It hides inner strength and powerful magic, coiled to strike at any moment. At least, that’s what he thinks.

He thinks he remembers.

Percy can’t much trust his memory these days, unfortunately. 


	2. Chapter 2

Credence doesn’t know what to think about the new stable hand. There’s something different about him. Not good or bad… just unexpected.

The man isn’t young, nor does he seem experienced, except in that he’s clearly a war hero, who’s simply passing the time, or maybe in search of an adventure. Foolishness and folly, his ma would have said.

But Credence rather admires him for it.

He’s brave, strong, and very kind. Patient with Modesty where any other stranger might have brushed her off, or ignored her. She brightens up the tent in in ways that no amount of electricity could.

Percival Farrier, a somber sounding name, so he asks everyone to call him Percy instead, seems to take his breaks in the training circles, usually when Credence is walking his horses, or going over the routines.

He doesn’t mind of course, he’s used to the stares. He’s used to Modesty following him everywhere. Somehow, Percy’s attention makes him more _alert._ Aware of what he does, how he dresses.

His skin prickles with the suspicion that Percy looks at him as if he has more knowledge about Credence than he does about himself. If such a thing were possible.

“Don’t you think he’s awfully handsome?” Modesty pipes up at his side, holding one of the horses bridles, carefully leading them in a path across the dirt.

Credence feels warmth rising in his cheeks, and he almost hisses at her to be quiet, but Percy is far enough away, taking a drink from the chilled barrels, that there’s little chance he might hear their conversation. “I don’t know.” He answers instead. Diplomatic, he thinks.

After all, agreeing about another man’s looks is dangerously close to something his ma would have called sinful. “He thinks you are too.”

Credence almost walks into a horse who’s halted mid step.

“What?” He stammers, and Modesty beams.

“Well, he actually said he thought you were _‘beautiful, or lovely.’_ He was speaking of your act. He said you look like an angel when you’re practicing with the horses, or speaking to the elephants.”

Modesty’s words are blasphemous in his mind, yet when Credence’s eyes zero in on Percy, he can’t look away. The man lowers his right arm, his only arm, to put back the water cup, and then politely wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. He looks up to catch Credence staring, and gives him a sad sort of smile before turning his dark gaze elsewhere. Percy doesn’t leave though, not like he usually does.

Credence can’t help but _feel_ Percy’s presence in the room, and Modesty’s words echo around his mind. They ripple and rebound, until he’s finding himself messing up steps, and fumbling with the horses. Credence knows he’s gonna get himself hurt if he doesn’t stop, or snap out of this haze.

He blinks, and finds Modesty’s run off, for once, leaving him alone with his thoughts, and Percy.

“You alright?”

Credence starts, turning to find the man himself leaning against one of the edges of the paddock, and looking mildly concerned for him. “Just daydreaming, I guess.”

His traitorous cheeks are still hot, and he turns away, staring pointedly at the horse right in front of him, leaning forward to rest his head against it’s mane.

“I do that a lot myself.” Percy says quietly, and Credence thinks that his voice is rather soothing.

It’s too bad all he does is tend the livestock, and not read stories for children, or perhaps something else that might require the use of it.

Credence lets his eyes flit back over to the man, feeling rather trapped under the weight of his gaze, unable to stop himself from asking bluntly, “Why do you always look at me so much?”

Percy swallows, forcing Credence’s eyes to drop and follow the movement, which only makes him blush hotter. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to. It’s just… you remind me of someone I used to know. To care for.”

Credence feels that same itch under his skin again.

The echo of what his guardian in the church would have said to him, potentially called him, _‘wrong, wicked, sinful’_ is being drowned out by the realization that Percy is like him.

They are the same. Credence tries to draw breath, but it’s as if the world, the tent itself is closing in, and the only space between them is due to the fence. Percy speaks again, breaking the silence. “Forgive me.”

Credence opens his mouth to ask what for, and then can’t say anything, because Percy’s leaning on the paddock, and possibly standing on his tiptoes to reach him, pressing his lips gently into Credence’s. Everything seems to short circuit inside of him all at once.

His eyes widen, but he doesn’t pull away, or push forward, he remains frozen, and Percy appears to take it in stride, quietly murmuring his apologies, backing up, letting the kiss break with a nearly silent sigh.

“Wait-”

Credence manages to gasp out, but Percy has reached the parting in the curtains, and he smiles just as sadly as ever back in his direction,

“It’s alright. I know it was a foolish thought, to think that would heal us. To heal you, it will take more than one stolen moment.”

The horses don’t need him, he’s been over his steps a million times. His routine will not change.

But this, this is something that Credence has never allowed himself to feel before.

He cannot simply ignore it. He won’t.

With one final pat to the nearest horse, Credence steps out of the ring and goes after Percy.


	3. Chapter 3

 

Percy has barely shucked off his boots and begin to straighten the cot padded with hay when he hears footsteps, and turns around to find Credence hot on his heels. 

The boy’s eyes sparkle with wonder, but not remembrance. This is all new to him, and even as Percy’s heart soars at the possibilities, he feels a pang of regret that it cannot be a reunion for them both. 

Credence stops short at the sight of his quarters, perhaps feeling out of place. Percy doesn’t know what to say, so he simply listens. 

“I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t. But I didn’t want you to stop. So please, can we do it again?” Percy gulps down a breath, and then nods shakily. 

He lets Credence approach _him,_ and the next meeting of lips is just as soft as the first, steadily firming up until Percy feels a slow press of a tongue along his bottom lip. 

Percy tilts his head and leans in, as Credence reacts with a gasp, he carefully sets his hand on the side of the boy’s waist, feeling the roughness of his work pants, the worn cotton of his shirt, untucked.  Percy daringly slides his fingers under the hem, finding bare skin, warm from exertion, and Credence shudders against him. 

“Do you mind if I sit down? My knees aren’t what they used to be.”  Percy asks quietly, afraid to shatter the spell of this moment. Credence nods, and moves back to allow him to do just that. 

At first, Credence sits primly beside him, and kisses him once more, but as Percy begins to lean back, the boy follows, until he’s halfway draped over Percy’s chest. 

They’re both breathing heavily now, and Credence lets out a noise that’s almost a whine as Percy’s hand slides over his bare back, feeling the ridges and dips of his spine, the raised lines of healed scars, old wounds. “I’m sorry, I’m feeling a little dizzy.” Credence says, his voice a rasp. 

Percy smiles up at him, for once, no longer alone in his constant state of infatuation. 

“It’s quite alright. Do you want to stop? Take a break?” 

Credence’s eyelashes flutter, and then he shakes his head.

“Not at all. I just had no idea such a thing was possible.” 

Percy licks his lips, withdrawing his hand to caress over Credence’s neck, along the close cropped dark hair that covers his nape. “What do you mean?” 

“I always knew I was different. Never sweet on a girl. Not one. But men, I would notice in the street. Then you. You’re so handsome. You’re a soldier, far more courageous than I could hope to be.”

Credence speaks so reverently, admiring Percy for what he’s pretending to be, while having no idea how he’s truly the strongest one between them. “Thank you Credence. You are too kind to an old man.”

“Don’t say that.” Percy smiles again, “Shall I prove it to you? How much more resilient you are?” 

He tries to inject a flirting lilt to his voice, unaware if Credence will pick up on his intent, but he catches a chance in the boy’s face, a darkening to his cheeks that the moonlight stipples over. 

Percy feels Credence shifting over him, and settling brazenly right atop his hips. 

There’s no point acting the demure stablehand.

Credence is invested in this enough to be hard, and Percy’s been pathetically aching for all the days since he first saw him again. 

“You don’t mind that I’m-” Credence cuts him off with a kiss before he can get too self deprecating, and bring up his arm, to Percy’s sudden relief. He grips at Credence’s neck, then his shoulder, while he can feel both of the boy’s arms winding around his waist, then dipping lower, between their stomachs, fondling right between his legs. Percy grunts into the kiss, then breaks it to throw his head back, the rough cot and cushioning hay preventing him from getting a concussion. 

Credence drags his mouth over Percy’s jawline, to his neck, then bites gently, before a touch harder, while his fingers massage tentatively on Percy’s groin. “It’s too much, I’m afraid I’ll disappoint you lad.” 

His irish tones escape him, while he’s under such duress, and Credence smiles against his skin, he’s certain that he must be. The shape of his mouth changes, and when Percy looks, he finds the boy’s other hand on his shirt, flicking the buttons open, baring his chest. 

He’s got more silver than brown hair scattered over his skin now, nearing the middle of forty, but Credence doesn’t seem to care, petting it, and idly rubbing his fingertips across a pebbled nipple. 

“You can’t possibly do any such thing.” Percy hears, just before Credence’s other hand joins the one pressing over his cock. 

With both of Credence's hands working deftly, his trousers fall undone, and Percy lets out what’s almost a moan, before he muffles it into the back of his hand, while Credence puts a hand over his naked skin. 

“I’ve only done this to myself a few times. Mostly since I came here. Running off to the circus...I’ve been living in sin.” He sounds sarcastic, a little, to Percy’s ears, even though his heartbeat drowns out mostly everything, with the way Credence’s thumb swipes under the slippery head, fairly dripping, easing his strokes. 

“You’re so wet.” It’s endearing how shocked Credence is, as if he thought he was the only one to get in such a state while pleasing himself. Percy’s vision starts to go pure white, and he barely has a second to groan out that he’s coming before he’s fallen off the edge. 

Credence ducks down to put his lips along Percy’s collarbone and keeps touching him, over and over, far past when he would normally let go. “Lemme just grab my handkerchief and clean up-” He says, distracting Credence enough to get him to stop. Percy draws in a lungful of air, and feels every inch of his cock tingling from oversensitivity. When he looks at Credence, he catches the boy midway through licking his fingers of the white smears of his release, and almost passes out. “Oh my god.” 

“What? It’s nothing I haven’t done before. I don’t like cleaning my sleep pants every morning.”

While trying to rationalize this knowledge, Percy glances down to the boy’s crotch, finding a telltale bulge to rival his own twice over. 

“Are you going to leave like that?” He asks, wondering if he’s going mad. 

Is he really having to beg to be allowed the chance to touch Credence? 

Luckily, Percy gets another swift kiss, tasting familiar bitterness, with Credence’s underlying fondness for chewing mint leaves that Modesty brings him. “No, I’m not.”

Percy silently begs for the boy not to notice as he uses a hint of magic to assist his one good hand with getting Credence’s pants undone, and then groans into his mouth as he feels the heated hard flesh beneath his fingers. 

Credence jerks his hips forward, his entire body trembling, while both his hands grip over Percy’s shoulders, before drifting up to cradle his cheek, while the other fists in makeshift pillow. 

Credence rocks down into Percy’s palm, chasing the high he’s been ignoring for a long few moments. Percy can feel the exact moment he crumbles, ecstasy crashing through him, turning his kisses sloppy, and his breathing gets ragged as Credence’s cock blurts out several wet ropes onto Percy’s skin. 

He probably gets some of it onto Percy’s arm, his shirt, maybe even his pants too, but he can’t give any fucks. Credence is shaky from orgasm, because of  _ him _ . 

Percy thinks he might cry from the beauty of it, and yet Credence is the one with dark lashes wet from tears, and butterfly soft kisses rain across his cheeks. 

“God… it’s never felt so wonderful.” He says, and Percy swallows thickly, “It’s probably just luck.”

He can’t go again, but Credence might. If he stays. 

If he helps Percy out of the rest of his clothing, and they just hold one another, he’ll be happy for that much too. Credence scoffs at his smart remark.

 


	4. Chapter 4

“Luck is what brought you to me. Or maybe fate. I meant it’s never felt like that alone.”

“Will you stay?” Percy asks softly, and Credence nods. His heart still races, and he wonders briefly how Percy got rid of  _ his _ mess so quickly, before he sits up and sheds his shirt and trousers, slipping out of his flats. Credence helps Percy get his off, and then settles down over the makeshift bed, falling into his arms, pressing his cheek into the warmth of the man’s chest. 

“I think it’s something greater than that.” Percy says, in answer to his musings. 

His voice rumbles throughout Credence, being so close, and he feels safe, comforted,  _ loved _ . 

It’s ridiculous to even consider. He knows very well how foolish he’s being. 

As Percy’s hand pets over his skull, calloused fingers are tracing his short hair, moving down to grasp at his shoulder, before his breathing starts to slow, and Credence sees the man’s eyes sliding shut. 

Credence is not quite as tired, so he lays there, observing in silence, until he feels the weight of his exhaustion pulling him under. He’s woken early, not by the hot sun pushing through the slats of the roof, but by shouting, and what sounds like a mild stampede. 

A chill wracks his body, and Credence recalls his state of undress. 

Percy jolts awake a moment later, and his arm tightens around Credence’s waist, as they’ve shifted a little in the night, and he lies facing the door, with Percy tucked behind him. 

His breath puffs warmly against Credence’s neck, as he tries to stay calm. 

“What’s going on do you think?” He feels Percy stiffen, and when he speaks, Credence doesn’t recognize his tone. It’s strangely detached. “Nothing good.” He answers, and Credence bites his lip till it bleeds.

Percy climbs out of bed around him, pulls on his clothing unnaturally fast, and Credence is left there, in the man’s quarters, as he cracks the door open and slips out.

Percy comes back before he can even start to get dressed, and he looks like a changed man.

“Credence, it’s alright. There’s someone here to help us. But there’s something you need to know-”

Before Percy can finish, another man is right behind him, edging past, smiling like Modesty does when she follows him around. He’s tall, slender, with wild red hair and dozens of freckles. 

“Credence! You’re alive! Oh good merlin, I cannot believe how much chaos is going on in this place.” 

He frowns, confused as to how this man could know his name, unless he’s just overheard Percy. 

“Who are you?” He asks, not quite demandingly, and the red haired man’s smile fades a little. 

“Oh dear. Mister Graves, he doesn’t know me?” 

“Or me. As I said, Newt,  _ ‘exercise caution.’ _ Don’t you listen?” Percy sighs. Credence doesn’t understand.

Percy’s last name is Farrier. The other man, Newt, looks at him strangely. 

In a similar manner to how Percy does sometimes. 

Even right now, Credence feels as if he’s missing a vital piece of information. Maybe several.

“Sorry, sorry. You’re right. Now, step back, this is going to feel a bit ummm warm.” Newt is holding up a peculiar piece of wood, sturdier than a normal branch or twig. 

Percy reaches out to take his hand, and Credence barely takes a breath before there’s a pressure against his head, like a horse knocking full force into him. His vision blurs and sharpens again, while his stomach threatens to revolt against him. Despite Percy holding onto him, Credence’s knees give out, and he feels himself starting to fall. “Oof watch it buddy!”

He gets caught by a pair of strong arms, leaned into a solid body, and he can smell cinnamon and vanilla. 

His eyes blink open, and Credence’s entire head hurts, but there’s no longer any confusion. 

Newt, Percy, no -Mister Graves- as well as a shorter man with a mustache are all standing over him, looking down at him. 

“Where’s Miss Tina?” He asks, right before everything goes dark.

 


	5. Chapter 5

“I knew it was going to be too much.” Percy growls, and Newt manages to give him a sheepish look, shrugging. 

“I’ve never done that before, so I wasn’t sure how it would go. Your case of amnesia is much less complicated, as is your arm. But I promise, he’ll be perfectly fine once he wakes up. Now, we’d probably better go. I’ve angered your circus ringleader person a bit… a lot.” 

Percy frowns, “What do you mean… can you fix my arm? Is that amount of healing possible? So long after the injury has… mostly healed?”

Newt looks on the verge of a laugh, but he clamps down on it, perhaps upon seeing how Percy’s still glaring. 

“Of course. I’ve got some plant sap and nectar that’ll fix it right up, along with a dose of skelle-grow. It tempers the horrid taste and the stabbing pain will be minimal. By the way, this is Jacob. He’s a muggle, sorry, a nomaj. He’s also my friend. He wanted to be a baker, so I helped him open his own shop. Then he got his memories back, thanks to Queenie, and now he’s here with me. So I can keep an eye on him.” Newt beams and Percy feels his anger fade a little.

This is Theseus’s little brother, after all. There’s no use being upset with him. 

He’s  _ rescuing _ them technically.

“Wait. We can’t leave yet. There’s a little girl here, I believe she’s Credence’s sister. She may have gotten caught in the same rainstorm that meddled with his memories.” 

Newt’s red brow quirks. “Oh? Yet she still remembers him? Oh merlin. I hope she’s not too far into obscurial territory. How old would you say she is?” 

Percy hums, carefully draping Credence’s shirt around his bare shoulders, before helping Jacob carry him out of the traincar, towards Newt’s suitcase.

There’s a bubble of air around them, a hastily conjured shield that hides them from prying eyes, and Percy finds himself grateful. In all this chaos he forgot to put his shirt on and he feels extremely self conscious of his injury. “Eight, maybe nine at the oldest.” He guesses. 

Newt claps his hands, “Excellent. She could get a letter from Ilvermorny still. So that’s fine. I wonder if she can see through…. Ah, is she blond?” Percy looks over, as they’re halfway down the steps inside the case, and he can see Modesty standing right on the edge of the shield, her eyes wide, a hand lifting in a wave. “Yep, that’s her.” Newt hurries over to usher her in, and the shield melts around her. 

“Percy! What happened to Credence?” Modesty asks, a touch out of breath, perhaps from running around the camp to find them. Percy looks to Newt, feeling out of depth, and the redhead explains everything as best he can, concise and simplified somewhat. 

“Do I get some magic too?” She asks, and Percy finds himself smiling even before he hears Newt’s answer. “Most definitely, Miss Barebone.” 

“Oh! No I don’t like that last name. Credence and I have other names. I can’t remember mine, but please pick something else for us.” 

Percy has to bite his tongue to keep from suggesting they take his, all things considered, but Newt simply assures her they don’t need one at the moment, and can choose something later. 

Percy downs the disgusting smelling if colorful potion that Newt gives him and Jacob has to walk him over to a small room laden with cots. 

They’re of a much comfier design than the ones from his circus quarters, and Percy can’t help wondering just how many illegal expandable charms are currently being maintained on this damn suitcase. 

He drifts off with his left arm missing from above the elbow, and wakes up three hours later with a very pale and fragile hand resting at his side. There’s only a slight bit of pain when he moves it, and flexing the fingers grants him tactile sensations he’s been missing for a little more than a week. 

And here Percy had been, expecting to never grow used to lacking a limb. Now he doesn’t have to. 

He gets up and walks around, relishing the somewhat welcoming atmosphere, compared to how hectic and hostile the circus had felt, noticing Modesty a few paddocks away, surrounded by what look like mooncalves. If Percy’s intermediate education has proven anything, it’s that he never paid as much attention to creature lessons as he should have. 

Newt however… seems the expert, and rather obsessed, to put it mildly. 

“Ahhh you’re awake. Excellent. We’re on our way to Paris right now. Jacob is carrying the case. He’s very trustworthy with us.” Newt’s latching on to Percy’s side like some kind of pilot fish. 

He explains that Credence is having a decent meal, feeling much better, and by the way, all those horses he rode in the shows? People. 

“Muggles, to be specific. Wearing kelpie bridles. Can you believe that? How evil. I sent my patronus to MACUSA, so they’ll be on the lookout for that fellow. He’s out of his mind, I swear. Turning poor muggles into show horses because he’s too cheap to buy some. The elephants… good merlin. You two are lucky you never caught fire. They’re half erumpent!” 

Percy glances over to the baby and his mom, pacing around a decently sized enclosure, a few feet across the way. They no longer look as if they have a haze of magic, but still appear fairly normal. 

Fairly…. Elephanty. “Erumpents… remind me the issue with them?”

Newt lets out a nervous giggle. 

“You don’t know? Mister Graves… Director, sir, their horns can be deadly. Explosives! Upon contact with anything at a fast enough speed. Had they ever charged you? Or the girl?” Percy snorts.

“As if they would hurt a magical child. She’s a third of Credence’s age, and twice as powerful.”

Newt hums to himself and then nods. “Maybe you’re right. The mooncalves certainly sense her magic.”

Modesty stands in the middle of the greyish skinned herd, holding out handfuls of their food, and they swarm her with their soft burbles and excited chirps. 

Her peals of laughter when their tongues catch on her fingers while slurping up the food make Percy smile. “So, is Credence-?” He cuts himself off, and Newt lets the silence drag on, and on. 

“-Is he angry with me? For not trying to tell him sooner? Or save him?” 

Newt’s face goes so pale every freckle stands out in contrast.

“Percival… no one is blaming you. Merlin’s sake, Grindelwald stole your face. Among other things.”

Percy grimaces, but flexes his arm again, continuing to keep using it, as if it’ll vanish if he doesn’t.

“But he hurt Credence, almost got him killed, while pretending to be me.” He protests, and Newt looks like he wants to say more, to argue, however, he doesn’t get the chance. 

Percy looks over past Modesty, and sees Credence emerging from another side hallway. 

“Mister Graves…”

Percy’s throat goes dry. Newt’s given Credence an entirely new set of clothes. 

A bright red shirt and velvet black pants, along with bare feet, apparently he feels confident enough to walk around a magical expanding suitcase like this. He looks positively ethereal. Percy feels like a mountain troll next to him, with his discolored arm, and probably rank sweat stained circus clothing. Newt pipes up after all. 

“Would you like to take Percival to the wardrobe? The closet I showed you before…?” Credence nods. 

“You can take a bath too. The water is charmed warm, but you can adjust it however you like. Some of my creatures prefer cold, some hot. It’s flexible.” Percy nods dimly, and lets Newt be replaced by Credence at his side, guiding, walking, not quite leaning into him. Percy swallows and tries to think of something to say to fill the awkward silence, but Credence speaks first. 

“I knew it wasn’t you. I knew, I think, from the first time I saw him. His eyes were cold, dark, empty. Where you’d look at me with such kindness, and interest… asking me about my day, how I slept… he didn’t care. All he wanted to know was about the child. Had I seen the child? If not, I didn’t matter.”

Everything slots into place very quickly with Percy’s restored memory of the last two weeks. 

“The rumors. The reports of damage resembling an obscurus… he thought you might know the child. Did he suspect Modesty of being that child?” Credence shrugs, and Percy feels hit by a thunderbolt. 

“You’re not just a nomaj born… are you? Ilvermorny didn’t forget to mail your letter, nor did your guardian confiscate it.  _ You’re _ the obscurus.” 

Percy sees Credence’s little jerky nod, and then breathes a sigh of relief. 

“I thought so. I always did. But god, there’s very few methods or spells to detect it. The only way to know for sure, is to see-” 

“-it in action. And he did. Grindelwald, I mean. I almost destroyed half of Manhattan. I’m lucky they only tried to kill me, and didn’t look too hard. I came to, I think a day or so later. It was still raining. 

It rained for three days straight. Nonstop, people were saying strange things to me. I couldn’t remember anything from that night in the subway. Last I knew, I had come to stay at the church, and I was being offered a home. Only to go to the church, and find it pristine, but empty. I know now that this was a lie. 

It had been destroyed. I killed my mother, and my older sister. Adopted… sister. I killed them while trying to protect Modesty.” 

Percy listens carefully to everything, and when Credence stops to catch his breath, choking on a sob, he gently puts an arm around the boy’s shoulders. They’re on the threshold of the closet, and Percy can see the rows and rows of clothing and shelves with various pairs of shoes, some for ladies and some clearly meant for men. He doesn’t let go of Credence, but he does keep walking slowly forward.

Credence leans into him closer, and nestles his face into the crook of Percy’s neck. 

“I’m sorry. I just wish things could have been different.” Credence keeps talking, softer, about how life seemed so open, and free to him, with all the bad memories gone, and he’d found the circus. 

Modesty had found him, a couple days later. The memories of knowing her had been too closely entwined with bad experiences, so she’d been erased too. Percy’s chest aches at the thought, and he’s glad that for Modesty’s sake, she never considered Credence to be a negative part of her short life, so she kept her memories of him. 

Without that small stroke of luck, they might have never found each other again. 

Percy changes out of his old clothing, casting a couple spells to clean himself rather than make Credence watch him bath, or perhaps out of pride. 

By the time Percy turns around, fully dressed again, Credence isn’t looking at him.

Maybe he never did. He’s looking out the small window which provides a clear view of a pasture full of duck like creatures that keep teleporting back and forth, rather than walking. 

Percy doesn’t even want to know how Newt caught them, or why. 

“Are you done yet?” Credence asks, and he smiles, taking the chance to walk over, and let himself fall into the line of the boy’s sight. 

“Yes. You didn’t peek at all?” Percy can’t help teasing, and Credence’s cheeks grow pink. 

“It was dark.”  Last night, he means. 

Percy bites his lip, and nods.  “Sure. You know, I’d do it again. In a proper bed. With lighting. If you want.” 

It seems almost too obvious, the depth of his feelings for Credence. Saying it would be vulgar.

So much that he’d been preparing to risk his entire career to help one nomaj. He loves Credence.

Percy stands still, so much that he thinks he’s holding his breath too, all while Credence looks at him with a smile, a steadily growing one, before dropping his eyes, and staring somewhere level with both of their bare feet. “I think I love you, Mister Graves. It’s why I felt so comfortable around you. I still do.”

“Credence please…” Percy starts, and Credence sighs, 

“Don’t tell me you don’t. I can see it. Every time you looked at me, it felt like you were touching me, as respectfully and slowly as you did last night. Am I wrong?”

Percival can’t see through his tears, painfully springing to life to blur his vision, as he surges forward, stopping at the last second to whisper against Credence’s lips, 

“I was going to say, call me Percy.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I saw fantastic beasts 2 and...  
> Boy howdy I was disappointed and angry.  
> This fic isnt beta read or canon fucking compliant by any means anymore.  
> If jkr lurks on here, come fight me outside dennys, you motherfucking coward.

Credence almost melts with relief, and Percy’s kiss sweeps him away like he imagines the boat they’re on right now is for the people. To be able to see a sunset out on the ocean, to be able to taste the fresh salty air, Credence can’t imagine it. But… he doesn’t  _ have _ to. Percy takes his hand, and tugs him along. 

They ascend the ladder and step out of the suitcase, wave to Jacob, and then slip out the cabin door.

It’s past midnight. Mostly everyone on board is asleep, so two  _ extra _ passengers go unnoticed. 

Credence leans against the railing, and closes his eyes. Like train legs, he adapts to the sea just as quickly.

Percy sways into him more than with him, but Credence just holds his hand, and lets him rest his chin on Credence’s shoulder. Eventually he starts to feel tired, with the time changes as they cross the Atlantic, it’s truly past getting both Credence and Percy’s usual bedtime. 

Percy half carries him back to the suitcase, and Credence directs him to where they could both sleep, with half a yawn interrupting him. He doesn’t mean to fall asleep before asking for a goodnight kiss, but he does. Percy guides him onto his back, and then snuggles against his chest.

It’s how Credence wakes up, with a fully regrown left arm draped over his stomach, and their legs entangled. Percy stirs against him when he notices his current state of arousal, merely from contact with the man’s body, and Credence turns beet red with embarrassment. Even with black pants, it’s obvious.

“Good morning. Do you think we’ve arrived yet?” Percy’s voice in the morning is a low rumble, and Credence  _ likes _ it. Perhaps a bit too much. His cock actually twitches when Percy sits up, and drags his hand purposefully, Credence thinks, across his shirt, making it ride up on his stomach. 

“I think Newt will come tell us.” He manages to gasp out, and Percy looks over at him and smirks. 

“So, I guess we have some time then.” Percy says it just casually enough, but in his current voice, and with Credence more than half hard, he’s quite sure he knows what the man means. “For what?” He asks.

Mostly for clarifications sake. Percy swallows, and Credence watches his throat move, feeling his the head of his cock starting to dampen the inseam of his pants. 

“Isn’t there something you’d like me to show you? That I promised I would?” 

Credence wracks his brain, but in his current state, he can’t think very quickly. 

“You promised to show me lots of things. With magic.” He adds, to prevent Percy from thinking he’s just a pervert, having retained all the man told him during their secluded meetings in dark alleyways. “Yes.”

Percy leans in to kiss him, while reaching down to cup a hand right over Credence’s cock, massaging the oversensitive flesh through the fabric, then suddenly snapping his fingers. 

Relatively cool air meets Credence’s bare skin, and he gasps as Percy breaks the kiss to start putting his mouth against his neck, nosing down from his jawline to his collarbone, and lower still. 

Credence falls back onto the bed, fully naked, shaky from arousal, as Percy ends up with his lips right beside his navel, and both hands centered on his hips. 

“Oh… _ that.” _ He breathes, and Percy chuckles right into his skin, 

“Yes Credence. Your lovely cock belongs in my mouth. I think we can agree on this.” 

After those words, his brain goes remarkably and blessedly silent, except for involuntary moans here and there, Credence cannot form a single coherent thought. Percy’s mouth lowers on his cock, the man taking him as far into his throat as he can without choking, which is seemingly all of it, so Credence  _ knows _ he must be cheating with magic. That's when Credence feels the man as he swallows around the length of him, and sucks, _hard_. 

His tongue flicks along the underside of Credence’s cock, and then as he pulls off, presses into the flat of the head. Percy groans over him, and the vibrations make Credence cry out. 

His legs are very tense, his hands fisting at his sides, and his back is bowing off the bed. 

“Percy, oh god, Percy, please, I think I’m going to c-” He doesn’t mean to shout, but he curses loudly, and Percy ends up with a mouthful of his semen, apparently right according to plan, as he never made a move to get out of the way. 

Credence’s entire body tingles as aftershocks zip through him, and he takes a deep breath, feeling a touch sore, but extremely pleased. Very relaxed too, as he thinks about it. 

Credence musters the strength to look down at Percy, still cradled between his now limp thighs, and feels struck with arousal all over again at the sight. One of Percy’s hands gropes on Credence’s hip, then down underneath, squeezing on his ass. “Credence, would you be opposed to me fucking your thighs?” He asks.

Credence gulps. “Is that all it is?” Sex, he means. 

He seemed to think sex between men was more involved than this. There was potential for injury, need for slickness beyond what the arousal of one’s body could provide. 

Percy blinks up at him, and then shuffles his body so that he’s mostly hovering on top of Credence’s chest, more eye level with him. “What?”

“Is that… what you want? Is that how you’ll fuck me?” Percy’s eyes close tightly, and he lowers his body down so he’s flush to Credence, every inch of his freshly clothed body to his naked skin. 

“Oh my god. Credence, you can’t just say things like that. Of  _ course _ I want to fuck you. But here? Do you really want our first time to be inside Newt Scamander’s suitcase?” 

Credence thinks it over for approximately five seconds, because he very badly does want Percy to fuck him, no matter what the location or time zone.

Most of all, he wants to know how it all feels, what it’s like. “Yes. I do.” Credence says with the strength of his convictions, and Percy draws back to look him in the eyes, then kiss him again. 

“Damn, you called my bluff. I’d have taken you in the alleyway. Against those bricks. There’s magic to help that.” Percy says, and Credence smiles up at the ceiling. 

“I trust you to know what you’re doing, even if I don’t.”

“I appreciate that, even if it’s been a while.” Percy offers, and Credence shrugs under him. “It’s okay.”

Percy retreats from his body enough to magic away his own clothing, and then kneels between Credence’s legs, urging them a touch wider apart, while his face gets hot once more. “Here, is where I’ll touch you.” Percy advised, before actually letting his fingertips tickle down from Credence’s stomach, past his slowly recovering cock, and lower still, under the swell of his balls, to the tight pucker of skin he’s never so much as dared touch. 

“But I’m not-” He took a bath hours ago, but Percy doesn’t seem bothered. “Magic.” He says, the spell a soft murmur under his breath, leaving Credence breathless like he’s just come again, and then Percy’s pressing harder, rubbing over that virgin skin, and making his legs open further automatically. 

Credence’s back arches as he tries to move himself closer, and Percy chases him, looming over his body and biting a kiss below his ribs, making him squirm and moan, as he hears another whisper of a spell. 

Then Percy’s fingers are wet, slick and warm, one fingertip nudging inside him, past the first outer ring of muscle, into where Credence’s body will need to relax and make room for his cock.

He cries out again, he can’t help it, it’s  _ so _ much all at once. Credence is half afraid he’ll come again the second Percy gets him open enough, or that he won’t even last that long. 

“Is it good? No pain?” Percy asks, and Credence is barely aware enough to respond with words. 

“Oh god, yes. So good, don’t stop. More, please.” Percy gives it to him. 

More means another fingertip, so that two are slowly and carefully moving into him, stretching and pushing, eased with warming slippery wetness. Credence thinks he can feel some excess dripping down his taint, soaking into the sheets, but he can’t say anything, can’t tell Percy to worry about it. 

Not when he can feel Percy breathing against his ribcage, and petting his free hand up and down the side of his hip, guiding his leg over the man’s shoulder, so that his ankle drapes over his upper back. 

“Do you want me to put your cock in my mouth again? To help distract you?” Percy asks with a rasp, and Credence nods, delirious, both his hands reaching blindly for the man’s hair, fingers surely painful on his scalp. Percy does just that, swallowing down Credence’s half hard cock, while spearing a third finger inside his ass, carving out a space for himself to be had in the next few moments. 

The moment all three of them graze by something that makes Credence’s entire body jolt, Percy pulls off his cock, letting the spit damp skin land hotly on his stomach. 

“That’s it. Right there, oh my. Perfect.” Percy says, and hits it again.

Credence’s vision whites out as Percy rubs his fingers purposefully into that spot inside him. 

Then the fingers are gone, and Percy is letting Credence’s leg come down to curl around his waist, while lining himself up, slotting their bodies together. 

“Credence, are you alright?” He asks, sounding patient, so very calm, despite how Credence can feel Percy’s body vibrating, a bowstring taut, ready to snap, his own arousal more subtle, and only obvious when the man’s cock is pressing against the cleft of his thighs.

“Yes.” He breathes, and Percy groans in relief, before guiding himself in. His cock slides into Credence’s hole with an obscene noise, and the man doesn’t quite collapse over him, but slowly fall. 

His arms brace at the sides of Credence’s head, and Percy moves his hips with a steady rhythm, chasing his orgasm, falling into the sensations, and drowning in Credence’s welcoming embrace. 

Both of his hands clasp together atop Percy’s back, so that he can feel every flexing muscle, and his ankles lock behind the man’s thighs, keeping him there, all the way inside him for a long moment. 

Percy mumbles against his neck that he’s not going to last if Credence tortures him like this, and he smiles, laughing too. He loves Percy. So much. It almost hurts. 

Eventually he feels the trace of wetness on his cheeks, and realizes he’s crying too. 

Credence turns his head and kisses Percy’s temple, his ear, whatever piece of the man he can catch. “Please, come inside me.” He says, he prays, he begs. 

Credence doesn’t expect Percy to listen. He only knows it’s happening because Percy goes still, shakes a bit more, and then warmth blooms where their bodies are connected. “Oh god. I’m so sorry Credence.”

Percy apologizes like he’s disappointed him. “What for?” He asks, dizzy with happiness. 

Percy gently pulls back, his cock softening, slippery wet with whatever he used for lubrication and most of his come. Credence doesn’t mind the mess now, he thinks. He likes the carnal evidence. 

“I didn’t show you a very good time.” Percy is saying, as Credence blinks rapidly, the ceiling comes rapidly back into focus, while his tears are beginning to dry on his face, and at his temples where they’ve dripped into his hair. “What?” 

“I mean… for your first-” Percy starts, and then notices Credence’s expression. Satisfied bewilderment.

“Oh. You enjoyed that.” He guesses, and Credence beams. “Of course. It was wonderful.” 

Percy lets out a breathless laugh. “Credence… love, I mean. I love you. I really do.” 

“I knew it. Thank you. I love you too.” He rolls onto his side, ignoring the cooling stickiness between his legs in favor of reaching for Percy’s face, dragging him back in for a kiss. 

There’s a long moment of that, as Credence is revelling in the connection they’ve shared, the bond they formed. Until Percy stiffens a bit, and pulls away.

Credence feels something like eyes on his back, and he turns around to see Newt standing there, in the doorway, determinedly not looking at them, at all. “Ah, there you are. So we’ve arrived. Tina and Queenie are coming to meet us. I suppose I’ll let you uh, get tidied up.” 

Percy coughs. “Goldstein? The Goldstein sisters are in Paris? Whatever for?” 

Credence knows one of them. Miss Tina. He wonders how she is. 

“Will we be staying with them?” He asks, and Newt lets out a squeak. 

“Sort of, yes. I’ll see you two in a few minutes… at the ladder. Okay? Okay.”

He’s gone so quickly it’s almost as if he vanished on the spot. Percy whispers that such a thing is impossible in the confined space they’re currently inhabiting. “So that was awkward.” Credence says.

Percy chuckles, and then clicks his fingers, leaving him feeling completely dry, and no longer in danger of sweating at his temples. 

“Yes, but Newt has always been a bit shy about such things. Ever since… well. It’s not my story to tell I suppose. Come on, we better not keep him waiting too long.” 

Percy gets to his feet, and Credence lets him, admiring the view, before he lurches into motion as well.

He’s never been outside New York, much less gotten the chance to travel to one of the most exciting cities in Europe. What are they waiting for? 

“Let’s go!”

“Now that we’re in Paris, you should learn some french.” Percy says, grinning. 

Credence hums. “Maybe. What’s that in french?” 

Percy doesn’t know, but he’s damned well going to find out. “I’ll tell you in a minute.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


**end**


End file.
